Civility?

[hazlogs]

It is currently 10:31 Pacific Time on Thu Jun 19 1997.
Currently on this gusty and warm spring midmorning in the general St. Claire 
  area, it is 75 degrees Fahrenheit (23.9 degrees Celsius). The wind is coming 
  from the northwest at 16 mph. The ground is wet. Skies are hazy with a 
  possible chance of precipitation.
Currently the moon is in the waxing Full Moon phase (94% full).

Erik emerges from the forest, moving slowly.
On the northern curve, Strong-Tree lopes to the center, and chuffs at Erik, 
  somewhat imperiously. Mule. Here. We need to talk.
On the northern curve, Strong-Tree heads into the center.
Erik slips his hands into his pockets and moves wordlessly into the center. 
  Though his manner is unobtrusive, as always, it's not so blindingly cringing 
  as it used to be.
Strong-Tree gives the metis a critical once-over with her brooding eyes. You 
  are mostly healed, I see. Good. We will start on your training, when we are 
  finished patrolling.
Erik murmurs a quiet, "Yes, ma'am."
Strong-Tree snorts. You may address me as ~Rowan~ or Strong-Tree, or rhya. I 
  often miss the meanings of ape-words, when I am distracted. Now, since you 
  and I will be patrolling together, I will need to know some of your skills, 
  so that we may best utilize them to our advantage.
Erik clears his throat a bit and switches to Garou. ~Erm. Well, yes. I think 
  you've already had a feel for my combative skills, um, such as they are.~
Strong-Tree snorts again, less than impressed, by her glower.
Erik shifts his weight a bit and shrugs uncomfortably.

Strong-Tree's Desc:
The size of this beast might lead you to look twice. At three feet at the 
  shoulder, her lean, muscular form is anything but awkward. Rather, there is 
  a sense of controlled power in her long legs meant for loping long 
  distances, deep chested body meant for endurance, and wide paws meant for 
  gripping the stone and earth beneath them. Wiry, multicolored fur makes her 
  size even more impressive, a mixture of greys and browns that blend well 
  with most surroundings. Her whiskery muzzle is long, squarish, with strong 
  jaws meant for snapping and gripping. Steady brown eyes are somewhat hidden 
  beneath the shelf of shaggy eyebrows. A large black cross of fur crosses her 
  haunch and trails down the length of her spine. Her pelt is also decorated 
  by a few scars here and there, difficult to see amongst her shaggy coat. She 
  moves with much self-assurance and familiarity in this form..
OOC: She looks much more like an Irish Wolfhound than a wolf, and is hence 
  much taller than most wolves, but leaner. She has PB2, Char 3, and her Rage 
  exceeds her WP, so that she makes people decidedly uncomfortable when she's 
  around.

Strong-Tree chuffs. We will work on that, and you will also work with the 
  Shadow Lord who is Guardian, to improve your appalling lack of skill in 
  fighting. But I need to know what Gifts you bring that will help us in our 
  duty? What Rites? What skills?
Erik clears his throat again and starts listing. ~I can summon the basic 
  elements and speak to the beasts. I know the rituals od dedication, 
  cleasning, contrition, and the rite to gather for the departed. I know the 
  minor rituals of showing praise to Luna and feeding Gaia.~ He rubs the back 
  of his neck, absently. ~I can, erm, create light on occasion, and, er.~
Strong-Tree flicks an ear. You do not have the Gift of Calling the Wyld?
Erik shakes his head.
Strong-Tree grumbles thoughtfully. ~Suillean~ and I will have to teach you 
  this, then. And the Gift of sensing the enemy. That will be useful in our 
  role as Guardian. Yes. You will learn to fight, and how to Call the Wyld. We 
  will make you into something that is not a total disgrace to our tribe.
Erik lets his hand drop from his neck and slips it back into his coat pocket. 
  ~Erm, thank you.~ He pauses. ~I still have to speak with the Righ.~
Strong-Tree grins toothily. As do I.
Erik doesn't /quite/ flinch at the showing of teeth, doesn't quite cringe, but 
  its' clear he's still not especially comfortable around the big Scotswolf. 
  ~You do?~
Strong-Tree tilts her head, so that one brown eye fixes on Erik's face. Yes. 
  He will not be happy with me, for my stupidity. Perhaps I will pay in the 
  same way you did for calling me a Shadow Lord. It is the way of things. She 
  seems almost eager.
Erik erms a bit and nods. ~Well, ah, yes.~ He pauses. ~What of your, ah, 
  challenge with Steven?~
Strong-Tree rumbles thoughtfully. That will still be taking place. The 
  prospect of that seems less pleasing to her.
Erik nods again, then lets out his breath in a slight sigh, changing rthe 
  subject. ~Have you heard anything of the Hunt, rhya?~
Strong-Tree pads away from the metis, with a low rumble of displeasure. We are 
  patrolmates, not packmates. Let me make that clear, first. If you fail in 
  your duty, I will be there. Having said that, she pauses to nip at an itchy 
  flank. I have not heard. I only just got back from scouting out the northern 
  bawn.
Erik murmurs a quiet, "Oh," and then falls silent, turning slightly to watch 
  the treeline.